


Deus Ex Hannibal

by mylittlegeekery



Series: Archer x Hannibal [1]
Category: Archer (Cartoon), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Cannibalism, Choking, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Kinks, M/M, Masterbation, Murder, Other, Profanity, Surgery, Violence, implied masterbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittlegeekery/pseuds/mylittlegeekery
Summary: Archer cast meets Hannibal cast because why not?
Relationships: complicated
Series: Archer x Hannibal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028508
Kudos: 12





	1. The Stereotypical Meet and Greet

“You cannot be serious,” Sterling Archer uttered while picking up a leaded crystal flask in one hand and poured a generous amount of golden liquor into a tumbler held in his other. “We don’t _need_ a doctor.”

“Oh, I beg to differ Sterling,” Malory Archer coldly replied, glaring at her son as he brought the glass to his lips and loudly drank her alcohol. “The medical bills incurred by this team in the last six months alone would pay a top surgeon’s salary several times over for the whole year. We could save a lot of time and money by having a doctor on staff to deal with _problems_.”

“Plus having one on site when someone inevitably blows up our own shit up would be a nice bonus,” Lana mused aloud as she stood at the corner of Malory’s desk, with most of the rest of ISIS’s field agents creating a rough semi-circle around them. 

Krieger folded his arms at his chest and huffed. “I’m a doctor.”

“She said doctor, not crazy mad scientist,” Pam muttered in between mouthfuls of a breakfast burrito.

“I’m not crazy,” Krieger insisted.

“Your fiance is a computer AI simulated holographic Japanese child bride.” Cyril uttered from his seat, one of two chairs positioned in front of their boss’s desk. Next to him sat Ray Gillette, white suit pressed to perfection and blonde hair neatly styled, who nodded in agreement.

“We’re waiting for the day you finally unveil the robot body you built to download that AI into, which will inevitably start the robot revolution and attempt to murder us all.” Ray said with a smile.

“Which is a good reason to have a doctor on staff,” Malory commented, still not entirely sure why she kept some of these idiots on the payroll. “This interview is merely a formality, I’ve already ensured that two of the fire safe rooms that were originally meant for file keeping start to be converted into an office and surgical suite…”

“What?” Sterling shouted, downing the rest of his drink. 

“What happened to the files?” Lana couldn’t help but ask. 

“Already been turned into hamster bedding,” Pam answered, grinning.

Lana’s dark eyes grew large in shock. “They got shredded?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” shaking her head, Pam laughed. “They were _pulped_. Borrowed us one of those military shredders that take up an entire semi tractor trailer. We tossed whole boxes in! Ground ‘em up good. It was fun.”

“Did ya check to see if any of the boxes contained anything important?” Lana asked, raising an eyebrow. 

That query caused a confused expression to appear on Pam’s face. 

“Nope,” nodded Lana in complete understanding. “I guess not.”

“Why a fireproof room?” Sterling managed to ask through his slightly drunken haze.

“Because they’re steel walls,” a voice from the doorway answered. Everyone turned to gaze upon a relatively short man with greying hair at the temples, wearing a dark blue suit and striped tie. His mouth was ringed with a mustache and goatee, also peppered with grey hairs. “Easy to disinfect and easy to clean, easy to keep sterilized,” he continued, a mild English accent tinting his tone. 

“Ah!” Malory smiled, putting down her own glass of alcohol for once. “Doctor Gideon! I’m glad you’re here.”

At that moment her intercom beeped, a cheerful female voice came through the speaker. “Ms. Archer, that bible guy is here.”

Giving an annoyed sigh, Malory pressed a key on her desk phone. “I know.”

Archer guffawed. “Bible guy…”

“Yes, I am aware that my last name is also shared by a family who set up a highly conservative institution to deliver bibles to hotels, motels and hospitals around the world.” Abel Gideon uttered dryly and stepped into the office, walking past the assembled crew and toward Mallory. 

“Thank you for coming,” the director sighed and straightened before offering the man a hand. “I’m glad you could find the entrance easily enough.”

He took the offered handshake and nodded. “Are you aware there are scratches on the floor from where the hidden door slides away? Rather sloppy for an organization whose primary function is _spying_.”

“Damn,” Mallory dropped her hand and took up her tumbler again. “I never noticed.”

“Probably because you’re used to it,” Abel offered. “Slowly built up over time and you just didn’t see the danger. It’s a problem and should be dealt with.”

“I’ll have the floor repaired immediately,” Cyril chimed in.

“If I were you I would only have certain tiles replaced around the machines and near the front door. It would be a shortcut that a dry cleaner would take to save money and not look out of place.”

Krieger eyed the doctor suspiciously. “You are weirdly good at this for just a run of the mill doctor.”

“I’m not just a _run of the mill doctor_ ,” Gideon coolly told him. “I used to be head surgeon at John Hopkins. I specialized in transplant surgery. I was an ER surgeon for years before then.”

“Noice,” Pam piped up, then also narrowed her gaze. “But I can’t help but think I’ve seen you before…”

“I must admit, I’m impressed. It certainly sounds like you’re qualified,” Lana said. “So, how did Mallory get ahold of you?”

Abel cleared his throat. “There was… An incident.”

“Usually that means you killed someone,” said Ray.

“All I know is, this is going to get confusing,” Sterling suddenly said.

Everyone turned and looked at him.

“How? Why?” Lana sighed, flicking a hand in the air. She had no idea why she bothered asking. It was probably some stupid, very _Archer_ reason.

“Krieger and Gideon look too much alike. How am I supposed to tell them apart?” He clarified, raising his hand holding his drink and pointed a finger between the two men. At that moment the only thing that made them look alike was similar facial hair “Especially if Gideon’s gonna look like a doctor and wear one of those white coats all the time like Krieger doesn’t.”

The aforementioned men gazed at one another then turned back to Sterling. 

“We’re nothing alike!” Krieger uttered. 

“For one thing, he’s _taller_ than I am,” Gideon scowled. 

“Gideon is kinda small,” Pam agreed.

“Not when I’m looking through Scotch colored glasses,” Sterling said, storming up to Abel and continuing to point his index finger. “You gotta do something to make yourselves look different. Wow, you _are_ short.”

Abel was tired of this entire banter so he took a quick step back, took an immediate stance and struck Sterling in the throat with the edge of his left hand, grabbed his wrist with his right and flipped the taller agent to the floor on his back. 

Archer’s glass flew out of his hand and struck the edge of the window, shattering. 

“You’re correct. I am short. Which gives me an advantage in close, hand to hand non-lethal combat. It makes it easier to use your higher center of gravity against you.” Abel muttered over Sterling, who simply laid there and moaned while clutching at his stunned esophagus. “Though now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ve been thinking of going clean shaven, as a bit of a way to start fresh with the new job and all. Lovely meeting you, Mister Archer.”

He glanced up to the rest of the team staring in awe at him. 

Mallory chuckled as her son managed some garbled cursing. “Welcome aboard, Doctor Gideon.”

“I’ll be setting up my office if you need me, Ms. Archer,” He said with a smile and made for the door. “I look forward to working with all of you.” Then Gideon left.

“Wow,” Ray breathed. 

Cyril softly laughed along with Mallory.

“Holy shit!” Pam exclaimed and took another bite of her burrito.


	2. What the-?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pam and Cyril dig into what the deal with the doctor is, while Cheryl is Cheryl.

“So what’s Gideon’s deal?” Pam said, leaning over the edge of Cyril’s desk and stared at his monitor as the accountant opened up a Google search. 

“I don’t know,” Cyril said, adjusting his glasses when hundreds of results appeared on screen. “Okay. I wasn’t expecting this much.”

“Dude! Did we get a famous doc? I wanna see!” Pam reached out and grabbed the screen, turning it toward her. “Murder? Oh. Ray’s guess was correct.”

Cyril grabbed the screen back. “Hey! Give me a minute, will you?”

“Maybe we got a Kevorkian!” Pam happily bounced. 

“I don’t know, let me see.” Cyril clicked on a few stories. “Hm. Oh. He’s involved in the whole Hannibal Lecter thing.”

Pam squealed. “Hannibal the cannibal? We got a real celebrity!”

“Hold on. Doctor Abel Gideon was arrested and pled guilty for killing his wife and her parents on Thanksgiving of 2011. Wow.” Cyril leaned closer to his screen. 

“Ew. Okay. Maybe not be so excited about this, Pam,” his coworker told herself. 

“Hang on,” continuing to scroll and click more articles, Cyril scowled on the other side of his lenses. “After an incident at the prison hospital he was in that involved the murder of a nurse, he killed guards and escaped and Abel Gideon was shot by an FBI agent… Will Graham.”

“Wait,” Pam frowned. “So the incident,” she pantomimed quotation marks, “Gideon talked about was something at a prison, not the murder of his family?” 

“Hold on!” Cyrial demanded. “There’s a lot here. So, it seems Gideon knew Hannibal Lecter when he was a surgeon and Gideon got a new hearing for the murder of his wife when his conviction from the last one was overturned when evidence was brought forward to indicate the possibility that he had been framed.”

“Whoa. That _is_ a lot. Total drama island. Framed? Did Hannibal Lecter do it?” 

“Apparently there was only circumstantial evidence so charges weren’t brought against Lecter, but I guess it’s weirdly similar to details from a couple of other frame jobs Lecter committed against, wow, the FBI agent who shot Gideon and the manager of the prison hospital he was in?” Cyril leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck.”

Pam whistled. “Gideon was balls deep in cannibal town.”

A hush fell between the two for a moment as they absorbed the information.

Pam finally broke the silence. “So, do you think he ate people?”

— 

  
“That’s fine,” Abel uttered as a pair of office personnel lifted a sterilizer and set it on a steel table. “Thanks so much,” he gave them a wave and they left the doctor in his new lab. Piles of boxes were everywhere and Abel continued sorting, opening what was necessary for now. He uncovered the electrical cording and got down to plug in the new equipment as a figure stepped into the doorway. 

The twenty-something smoothed out her skirt as she watched their new doctor crawl under a table. “Hiya!”

Gideon smacked his head on the tabletop, swore and slid back out, glaring at her the entire time. “Yes?” he asked, rubbing a palm against his skull.

Cheryl practically crooned with delight at having caused that. “So, hi, I’m Cheryl. I’m Ms. Archer’s secretary or something.”

“Yes,” he dryly replied. “We met. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah, I remember now,” she lied. “Anyway, so I hear you took down Mr. Archer.”

Abel plunged the blade of a cutter into another shipping box. “Yes. I suppose so.”

Swirling a finger around on her cashmere sweater, Cheryl hummed. “You choked him or something?”

He sighed, stopping in his unpacking. The doctor threw a tired gaze at the young woman. “Or something,” he coolly mimicked. 

Purring, Cheryl stepped further into the office and leaned against the edge of his desk. She took a pose that Abel guessed was meant to be seductive or yearning but it just looked awkward. “Oh, goodie. Could you _or something_ me?”

Maintaining his even expression Abel frowned at her. “What? No.”

“Aw, come on!” she loudly whined, putting her elbows on the surface of the furniture. “Choke me! Or tell me how you choked Mr. Archer.” Cheryl hissed in pleasure and giggled. “In _intricate_ detail.”

He slowly blinked. “Okay. You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

“Maaaaaaybeeeeee,” she giggled again. 

“Get your kinks satisfied elsewhere, Miss Tunt, was it?” Abel muttered, pulling out a carefully wrapped defibrillator from the box he had been working on.

“Sometimes,” she shrugged. 

Having no idea what that meant, Abel shook his head and began pulling off bubble wrap. “Goodbye, Miss Tunt.”

"Poo!" She pouted, stood straight and stamped a foot. "Come on! Just a little taste?" 

Abel loudly sighed and set down the device. Now he knew why Mallory had a full bar in her office and he desperately wanted a drink. He marched up to Cheryl and grabbed hold of her arm to forcefully remove her. "Get out of my office, Miss Tunt."

"Oh! Yes!" she giggled as his hand wrapped around her bicep. "Choke me! I deserve it. I'm just as annoying as Archer. You'll see!"

He pushed her out the door. "Out!" Then Abel shut and locked it before loudly sighing from relief. "I've just moved from one type of crazy to another."


	3. Maybe This Isn't So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Title.

“Seriously Mother, what the _hell_?” Sterling croaked, his throat still sore from the doctor’s perfect strike. “Where did you get this guy?”

Mallory chuckled. “What’s the matter, dear?” The older woman asked as she turned her chair ever so slightly, simply to easily gaze at her son who was resting on a couch holding a round piece of ice to his throat. “Don’t like being taken down a notch?”

“Who the hell _is_ a doctor who just karate chops someone in the throat?”

“I don’t think it was karate,” Mallory told him after a sip of a fresh drink. “But I know for a fact that a while ago he took out three guards while _handcuffed_ in transport.”

“Transport?” Archer squealed and began coughing. After he finished, he then moaned slightly. “I repeat, _where_ did you get this guy?”

“Sterling,” Mallory tutted and rose from her chair, slowly stepping over to him. “He’s a complicated person. So are you. So am I. We’ve all done stupid, terrible things. I have looked into Dr. Gideon and made a decision to hire him. Does he have an ugly past? Yes. We _all_ do and I think he’s the _perfect_ addition to our team.”

“Because he chopped me in the throat?” Sterling asked and dropped the melting ball of ice into a poured glass of whiskey. 

His mother hummed with a smile on her painted lips. “Partially.”

Having raised the glass of dark alcohol to his lips, Archer began to cough as soon as a small amount dribbled down his throat. “AH! It _burns_! Why did I do that?”

Mallory simply sighed loudly. Her son might be a fine field agent but he truly had no sense.

— 

“I don’t get it.”

Ray glanced up from his lunch at Lana as the woman pulled out a chair next to him from the break room table and sat. “Don’t get what?”

“Gideon. He’s a serial killer!” she suddenly uttered. “Why would Mallory hire him?”

Ray raised a blond eyebrow and made a thoughtful sound through his nose. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’ve all killed people.”

“Yeah,” she hesitantly agreed. “But…”

“We’ve all killed a _lot_ of people. You literally carry a pair of small automatic firearms around for maximum rate of fire. One in each hand. You _double fist_ in your killing.”

“But we’ve got a job to do…”

“Aaaaaaand,” he pointed a finger, “We do it for _money_. We wade through faceless schmucks on every goddamn job. They’ve all got names. Families. We do it without a second thought. I’m not gonna judge him. I don’t exactly have the moral high ground and neither do you.”

Lana narrowed her eyes as she fell silent for a few seconds. “How dare you snatch away my moral high ground.”

“Honey, we’ve both taken up residence in the sub-basement of that ground,” smirked Ray as he lifted a mug of coffee. 

The pair glanced toward the doorway and caught sight of Krieger vanishing from sight with a box tucked into an arm.

“Gonna be nice having a real doctor on staff,” Ray wistfully said, glancing at a black gloved hand. “Krieger’s fine on some of the weird science and tech and shit but I think I’m gonna inquire about a new hand if he’s really a transplant surgeon.”

“Still weirded out, huh?”

“You know, I don’t personally care so much,” Ray told her, “But trying to explain why I have a black hand attached to my lily white arm when I’m trying to get me a piece of ass is awkward as hell.”

“So be a leather daddy,” Lana said as she got up to fetch her own cup of coffee.

“But I'm _not_ a leather daddy,” protested Ray.

“Damn shame, too,” Pam uttered as she entered the room and went straight toward the refrigerator. “I think you'd look great in assless chaps.”

“Are you sure he hasn’t worn assless chaps?” Cyril wondered as he followed behind and joined her at the fridge. 

Pam pulled out a beer and twisted off the cap as she considered the question. “No,” she said, entirely unsure. “Honestly, I’m glad you’re the bookkeeper and not me because one punch and I’d forget my password.”

“You _have_ forgotten your password,” he dryly told her as Cyril pulled out a yoghurt and closed the door. 

“My point exactly.” she agreed and took a long pull on her beer.

“Again, glad we have a real doc around here now,” Ray muttered. 

From the doorway Cheryl shrieked with delight. “Isn’t he _great_?”

Everyone in the break room stopped and stared at her with questionable expressions, having no idea what she was talking about. 

“Oh, wait,” Pam muttered. “It’s because of the throat strike, isn’t it?”

Cheryl shrieked again and excitedly danced in place. 

“Wow, thanks.” Archer lowly growled from behind her, white collar of his shirt flipped up. “Glad my pain and suffering makes you so happy.”

She whirled around and clapped her hands. “I wanna see! Can I see? I didn’t get to see it! Pleeeeeeeaaaaase let me see if you have a bruise? What did it feel like when he hit you?” Cheryl pleaded. 

“No. Jesus Christ,” Archer brushed past her, disgusted. “And do we have any smoothies that I can mix with vodka for lunch?”

Pam laughed. “Goddamn. It was funny, Archer.”

“Yeah. Real funny when it’s painful to swallow from a Karate chop.”

“Ju-Juitsu,” Lana corrected. 

“Whatever,” grumbled Sterling.

“Oh, it was Ju-Juitsu,” Pam nodded. “And expertly conducted, too. As a brawler, let me tell you, never underestimate the little guys. They will work twice as hard at learning how to kick your ass.”

Cheryl shuddered and moaned. 

“Girl,” Ray wrinkled his nose at the secretary. Cheryl's sexual kink for pain and specifically choking was well known by everyone. It popped up from time to time in their line of work. “You need help.”


	4. I give you the F.B.I.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack Crawford appears.

“Thank you for seeing me on such a short notice, Director Archer,” Jack Crawford said, extending a hand to the older woman. 

Mallory accepted it with a firm shake and indicated a chair before her desk. “It was no trouble at all, Agent Crawford. Before we begin I would like to personally thank you for supplying me with all your files on Doctor Gideon.”

The agent in charge of the behavioral science division of the FBI shook his head as he popped open the button of his suit coat and lowered himself into the indicated seat. “I still haven’t the slightest idea why you felt the desire to consider hiring him.”

“He was on the market and I didn’t just consider it,” he stepped around her sizable desk and to the sideboard positioned along the wall in the office. “I hired him. Drink?”

His lips parted slightly, revealing a slight gap in Crawford's teeth as he stared absolutely gobsmacked at the woman. “No and why?”

“The same reason why you have Agent Graham,” Mallory told him, dropping ice from a bucket into a glass. Will Graham was a special agent that taught at the FBI’s training academy because he had a gift that allowed him insight into the minds of killers. That gift was the reason why Jack offered him a position on his team. “Because Gideon has a certain  _ insight  _ into the way dangerous people think. Maybe not quite in the same way as Agent Graham…”

“No one has the same insight as Will Graham. Having seen what he can do, I’m almost tempted to claim that psychic phenomena is real.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed and poured her drink. “He is a unique case.”

Crawford eyed her suspiciously. That was oddly specific and vague wording. “How do you know so much?”

“Do you honestly think Doctor Gideon was the  _ only _ one on my ‘to watch’ list?” Agent Archer asked him with a slight purr to her voice as she returned to her desk chair and sat. 

Agent Crawford made a noncommittal sound and said nothing. 

“So why  _ did _ you want to chat with me?” Mallory asked as she swirled her Scotch, letting the pieces of ice softly strike one another against the glass. 

“I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

Allowing herself a feline smile to spread across her visage, Mallory chuckled. “Oh, I do enjoy a good exchange of favors.” She then dramatically pressed a button on the intercom. “Cheryl.”

After no response for a second Mallory leaned into the device. “Cheryl. Are you at your desk?” Still nothing and she grumbled. “Damn her.” Her eyes caught sight of someone in a white coat walking by the office and she called out, “Yoo hoo!"

Stepping into her doorway was Gideon, wearing a white lab coat not unlike what Krieger usually wore, but a sweater vest under it layered with a white shirt and blue tie. His face had been freshly shaven for several days, but still seemed rather peculiar to her after staring at so many photographs of him with a beard. “Yes?”

“Ah! Doctor Gideon. Since Cheryl is God knows where, could you find Lana or Ray or my son and let them know I want a meeting in five minutes?”

“Certainly, Ms. Archer.” He gave her a curt nod and gazed at Jack with a cold, blue indifference. “Agent Crawford,” he muttered before turning and vanishing into the ISIS offices.

A silver eyebrow raised above the other.  _ That was interesting _ , Mallory mused to herself and took a drink. “Why don’t you give me the gist of what you want before the party begins, hm?” She asked aloud.

—

“This is an individual known as Swinney Todd,” Crawford told the assembled team, gathered around Mallory’s office as he stood before the large flat screen that was embedded behind her desk. The low resolution image of what looked like a cartoon pig appeared on the screen. 

Pam made a face. “Wow. What a porker.”

Sterling opened his mouth but a cold glare from Lana and a shake of her head made him slowly close his jaw and said nothing. 

“An alias, obviously, and this is a still from one of his posted videos.” Crawford continued, utterly unaware of the interaction. “He wears this, a costume pig mask, to conceal his identity. His voice is altered because of the mask but the audio is also digitally manipulated, making it difficult to pin. His videos contain a lot of information of a destructive nature. How to build bombs, weaknesses in surveillance systems, and details as to what the FBI is currently investigating. I mean, very  _ specifically _ investigating. Sometimes with classified information. Relevant to cases being investigated at the current moment the vids are uploaded.”

“A mole,” Lana uttered. 

“At least someone with access to FBI investigative material,” Crawford agreed, tapping the screen to move onto other slides. “Our unidentified subject, or unsub if you will, has a brand new video practically every day. Sometimes more than one. They might appear on a number of sites, which make them difficult to pin down, and sometimes multiple ones all at once. In some cases new usernames appear just for the upload and distribution of a single vid, but because this unsub has quite a few loyal followers, even if it’s caught relatively quickly and taken down- it’s already been downloaded, shared and reshared dozens and even hundreds of times.”

Krieger, uncharacteristically attending a meeting, flicked a hand in the air. “ISP tracking,” he muttered, seemingly bored by the proceedings, convinced that there would be nothing here of any interest.

Crawford nodded. “Obviously. Unfortunately, they seem to be using some sort of VPN which is masking their IP address. It might show coming from England, Canada or Brazil. Whoever the unsub is, they’re purposely covering their tracks all over the globe. We haven't yet managed to pin anything down.”

“Profile?” Ray wondered, aloud. 

“We don’t have a lot to go on, as the unsub is using a plain white background in every video making it difficult to determine scale or really anything. But judging by the size of the mask, by the dimensions provided by the manufacturer, male, aged twenties through thirties, five foot nine.” Crawford told him. “Most likely, white,” he added.

“White bread domestic terrorist,” Lanna uttered. “They’re a dime a dozen these days.”

“White bread domestic terrorist with FBI intelligence,” Jack flatly said. “We’re digging internally but we need to find the source of the leak and quickly before the dam bursts.”

“Which is why you’re passing it off to us,” Cyril joined in.

The FBI agent pointed a finger gun at him. “We’ve hit a bit of a block with the VPN. Given your trade is spying and spy networks, I thought ISIS might be good to throw the ball to midfield.” Jack then turned toward Mallory. “Because of the sensitive nature of information that may be involved, I insist that discretion be an order.”

“Of course!” She grinned. “We are consummate professionals.”

Sterling put a hand over his mouth to keep from guffawing.

Jack cleared his throat, knowing full well that the team seemed anything but discreet at times. Though he saw and heard a snort come from the team leader's son, he didn’t acknowledge it but grunted softly.

“Yes, well…” She set down her drink and rose to meet him. “I assure you, ISIS will keep all this tightly under wraps.”

Agent Crawford then looked around the room. “There are copies of our complete profile on the unsub, along with copies of various videos that were downloaded, including known upload locations and some evidence collected.”

“ _ Some  _ evidence?” Cyril asked. 

“ _ Some _ ,” Crawford gave him a nod. “We’re not showing you  _ all _ our cards. Though we’re pretty sure the leak directly involves the FBI, it could still be someone connected to any number of government agencies with a specific bone to pick with us.”

“True,” Mallory agreed. “And you have every right to protect your agency. Well, Agent Crawford, we’ll see what we can do and I’ll get back to you with our findings.”


	5. This Little Piggy Went on the Internet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot moves onward.

“Aw, man, just some run of the mill latex freak with a burr in his boot,” Pam huffed, annoyed as she paced around Cyril’s desk. He sat at his computer, scrolling through documents with Lana glancing over his shoulder. 

“Were you expecting another skin-peeling, cannibal killer,” Lana asked her, glancing up from the screen. 

Pam stopped and scowled. “Kind of. I mean, Crawford’s the one who seems to be wading through the weirdo serial killers. He could have given us any number of unsolved bee zombie cultivators but instead we get-”

“Something practically mundane,” Cyril finished for her, not looking up from his monitor. 

“Well… Yeah.” Pam nodded.

“He probably gave it to us so he and his team can focus  _ on _ the serial killers,” said Lana, looking back to the screen. “This is the stuff we’re good at. Tracking people down and finding them, stopping ‘em before something bad happens. Quasi supernatural monsters are not really our thing.”

“They could be,” muttered Pam as she crossed her arms.

“There’s just not much here,” Cyril concluded. “They have the manufacturer of the pig masks and potential places of sale but these things are cheap Halloween horror costumes that are sold by the thousands every year. Complete dead end.”

Lana softly grunted. “Here’s hoping Krieger has more luck on his end.”

—

“Again, this isn’t exactly my forte,” Krieger uttered as he stared up at a bank of multiple computer screens, overlaying communication networks and cyber hubs of the contiguous United States over one another and staring at the lines for a second before looking over smaller data screens at his terminal. “Why didn’t we get a new computer tech instead of another doctor?”

“You’re not a doctor,” Ray coolly told him as he stood by and let his eyes glaze over the scene without bothering to attempt to discern what was happening.

“I am so a doctor,” Krieger responded, eyes narrowing.

Ray waved at him. “Tell that to the hand, Frankenstein.”

“Damnit, I am  _ nothing _ like Frankenstein!” 

“Noooo,” Ray shook his head. “You’re right. Victor Frankenstein at least went to med school before  _ dropping out _ , now don’t you go telling me that you know nothing about covering your online tracks because we all know the shady as hell shit you’re into and you  _ must _ use one of those private networks to buy your robo and cloning parts so why don’t you just drop your line in and see what you can catch, hm?” He raised an eyebrow at the scientist.

Krieger took a deep breath and turned back to the task at hand but still muttered under his breath.

“Do we have a suspect yet?” Sterling Archer asked as he walked in carrying a paper cup with a lid and straw, sucking on the contents. 

“No.” Rolling his eyes, Ray turned to the other field agent. “Still on a liquid diet?”

“It’s seriously still too painful. Jesus, even eating some eggs is still too much.” He shrugged. “Bonus, is I can simply mix alcohol into whatever I’m eating so I can eat  _ and _ drink at the same time and save a step.”

“Have you considered  _ not _ drinking?” Ray wondered.

That simple question caused Sterling to silently stare at the man with total, complete confusion as if Ray had befuddled him with the universe’s most difficult riddle.

“Mallory could stand to hire  _ another _ doctor, this one a psychiatrist to have a talk with all you people,” said Ray as he looked at Archer’s empty expression. 

“We have a tough, stressful job and I drink instead of coping like a healthy adult,” Archer almost proudly announced. “What the hell do you do?”

“Go home. Change my clothes. Shower.”

“And?” Asked Sterling. 

“And…” Ray looked off. “Hit up a nightclub, get blitzed and then try to get fucked.”

“Ha!” Sterling pointed at him. “You don’t have healthy coping mechanisms either!”

“At least I’m not having sex in the office!” Ray hotly countered. “No one here has any self control.”

“At least I’m having sex with actual  _ people _ ,” Archer continued to argue. “He has sex with an artificial intelligence with a holographic projector.” He then pointed to Krieger. 

“Hey!” the man swiveled around in his chair. “At least I’m not sharing STDs around the office.”

“We are not-”

“I’ve never had sex with-”

Krieger leaned back and calmly looked up at the men. “I have surveillance footage that says otherwise.” Both Sterling and Ray fell silent. “Now will you two shut up so I can get back to the task at hand?”

“Yes, please,” Lana uttered as she walked in. “Anything yet?”

“No. But I think we might have a stroke of luck here,” Krieger told her as he went back to the keyboard. “So whoever this little piggy is, he’s still probably using an old Logitech webcam from like two-thousand and five. It’s not even HD quality. Plain background. Cheap mask. Not gonna spring for  _ premium _ VPN services, I bet.” 

“What does that mean?” she asked. 

“That means that he’s probably using a bargain basement network and if he was  _ really _ smart he would use a service that has a no tracking feature. The way anyone manages to track a cyber criminal is by following an internet provider’s trail as they track you everywhere you go. A no frills version of a private network simply allows you to work your signal through a different router, masking your trail in kind of a big virtual loop. They can  _ still _ track you through the private network unless you buy a fancy no tracking option but given the cost cutting measures this piggy’s been using… I bet I can use dates and times to narrow down search parameters by following trails that exist once I figure out what VPN carrier he’s using. Then we can hack into their database and get payment information and an address, but if he’s using a no tracking system, we’re screwed and not in a fun and sexy way.” 


	6. The Two Doctors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That moment when you ask yourself 'Hey, what is the name of Krieger's holographic program again?' and it takes you half an hour to find it because no one bothers to mention what it is in the summary of the show, character listings or even as a voice credit? Yeah.

“We’re moving at ten tonight,” Lana uttered, leaning on Abel’s desktop as the doctor poured over personnel files. “Mallory wants you in the field in case of casualties.”

“Going over medical records leads me to believe that casualties are going to be inevitable,” he dryly replied, staring at the screen through a pair of glasses. Having reached middle age, Abel Gideon was in need of spectacles when reading, otherwise headaches developed. “I’m surprised that any of you are still alive, let alone relatively unscathed.”

Lana softly grunted. “Tell that to Ray. I’m surprised a bunch of ‘he’s more machine now than man’ jokes haven’t been about him at this point.”

“Did Krieger work on him?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lana laughed. “Krieger is certainly something. He’s straight out of some B-movie monster flick. It’s why Mallory hired you. We’ve all taken a few hits over the years and honestly I think she’s concerned about getting the Krieger treatment at some point.”

It was Gideon’s turn to grunt. “I need to see his lab.”

“Fair warning, It’s precisely what you think a mad scientist's lab looks like.”

“Noted,” he replied, “but I have a feeling he’s absconded with a few shipments meant to make it to _my_ office and not his.”

Lana tilted her head as she regarded the man for a silent moment. “You’re not quite what I expected.”

He peered over the top of his glasses. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Not this. You’re so…”

“Normal?” he offered. 

“Yeah,” Lana slowly agreed. “Having read your file and knowing what went on with Hannibal Lecter, I was expecting something different. No offense. I honestly wasn’t sure about the decision to hire you.”

“I completely understand. I’ve had more than one mental breakdown that has resulted in multiple deaths. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I had been declared legally unfit to make my own judgements I would have gone to trial for the people I murdered after being _conditioned_ to think I was a serial killer and I would still be in prison.”

“Noted,” Lana agreed with a nod. “Gotta love grey areas in law.”

“I still killed people,” Abel dryly uttered.

“I… Yeah.” Lana scratched the back of her neck when she finally felt the weight of the awkward conversation. “Anyway, you might want to get some rest before tonight. No idea how long we’re going to be out.”

Sterling Archer stepped through the doorway, still holding a cup. “Hey Lana, do you…” He paused as he looked at the both of them. “No, no, no, no!” he shouted. 

“What now, Archer?” sighed Lana.

“Now he looks like Cyril!” Sterling cried.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” swore Lana as Abel sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

—

“Let’s see what we got in here,” hummed Krieger as he took a scalpel to the packing label information of a moderately sized box, slicing the plastic envelope. He deftly pulled out the paper within and unfolded it as Gideon opened the lab door. 

“I had an inkling where that disappeared to,” Abel coolly stepped inside and strode toward the scientist as he stood next to his table, tucking the packing slip behind his back.

“Where _what_ disappeared to?” Krieger grinned, looking more like Alan Rickman as Hans Gruber than he probably intended. 

Abel eyed the movie villain. “You’re not happy with me being around. I get it. You think I’m stepping on your toes,” he said as he closed the distance between them. Krieger took a few steps to his side adding to the space as he was unsure of the doctor’s intent. “But you don’t steal shit from my office.”

Suddenly the air directly in front of Abel shimmered and he stopped cold as the glowing form of a pink haired girl appeared in front of him. Dressed in an entirely too revealing white wedding dress with stockings and garters, the hologram blinked overly large, stylized eyes and pointed a finger. “You no lay a finger on my fiance!” the wavering figure squealed in a thick Japanese accent.

“What the-?” Startled, Abel immediately moved back. Having a hologram appear in front of him, the doctor was not prepared for such a fantastic possibility. “What the hell?”

“Ah…” Krieger quietly uttered, wondering if he should turn and make a break for one of his hidden surgical, and fortified, suites while he had a distraction.

“What are you doing?” Gideon demanded of the scientist as he glared _through_ the glowing image in front of him. 

“Oh.” Krieger muttered, realizing that the hologram was an all too brief distraction. “I didn’t do this. I swear.” He held his hands up in surrender. “She came on all on her own.”

“ _She?_ ” Abel snapped.

“ _Hai!_ ” The hologram snapped back. “ _She_. I am Mitsuko Miyazumi. I am Krieger-san’s fiance. You will no hurt him!”

Abel’s blue eyes slid back to the translucent figure before him. “I wasn’t going to hurt him,” he admitted. “I was just going to get my box back.”

Mitsuko blinked, an audible sound coming from the action. “Oh. Okay. You can take it,” she said, stepping out of the way on wedge platform sandals. 

As Abel walked by her, his gaze moved from the animated girl to the glowing lights positioned along the ceiling of the laboratory. “That’s impressive. Normally a hologram requires a solid surface to make it visible to human eyes.”

“Photons are sort of colliding with themselves at a wavelength perceptible by our eye,” Krieger explained, hands still raised but he pointed to one of the projectors. “As well as whatever fine particulate matter is suspended in the air. Dust motes and what have you.”

“Artificial Intelligence?” Gideon asked, taking possession of his package.

“Yep, yep, yep,” Krieger beamed, proud of his achievement. “Made her myself and she’s even recognized by the state of New York as a _person_.”

“And that person can hear you!” Mitsuko uttered, annoyed that the men in the room were speaking _about_ her while she was standing there. 

“Of course you made her,” muttered Abel, snatching the packing slip Krieger was still holding and stepped up to Mitsuko. “My apologies.” He bowed slightly and the anime girl blushed noticeably. “You’re right. We shouldn’t have been talking about you. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“M- Mitsuko Miyazumi,” she stammered slightly.

“Miss Miyazumi. Again, my sincerest apologies. It was a very rude thing to do. It won’t happen again.” He threw Krieger a look and gave her a small smile. “Have a nice day.” Then he left.

Krieger lowered his hands. “Huh. That was… Something.”

Mitsuko whirled around, stomped up to him and swatted his arm with a hand, which upon colliding with solid matter simply passed over, though Krieger acted like she physically struck him. “Do not steal from him again. I like him.”

“But... “

“No!” 

“Okay.”


	7. Leading Up to the Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff is about to happen, but first some conversations.

Krieger's van was parked along the edge of an access road, where the constant going of ATVs had worn tracks into the dirt and well into a wooded area that lined the road that was largely unused. Inside Krieger was setting a headset on his ears and tested his microphone. Before him several LED screens were solid blue and then one by one began to change and reveal some body camera footage from the field agents currently making their way around a piece of property. 

Abel Gideon was lounging in one of the passenger seats, watching the team start their operation. His eyes were half-lidded out of boredom. He would have his phone out and playing a stupid little game, but there was no signal from his carrier. Wishing he bothered to pack a book in his bags, the doctor decided to simply remotely watch the ISIS crew slip into what was the hiding place of some wannabe Nazi terrorists that seemed to be all the rage with a certain sect.

Ray and Lana checked in, also making sure their connections were sound. 

Sterling swore loudly over the communication, having struck his shin on a stick he hadn't seen in the quickly fading light. 

Everyone laughed at him, except Abel who was left out of the joke. 

Several of the projectors hidden within the vehicle suddenly came to life and the shimmering figure of Mitsuko appeared next to the bored doctor. " _Konichiwa_!" she excitedly greeted him.

"Ah!" the doctor started, nearly diving out of his seat. "Christ! What the hell was that for?"

"So sorry," she apologized, hiding a smile behind her bouquet of flowers. "You probably not know I can do this."

"No." He agreed and straightened up in the seat. "Your _fiancé_ ," Abel snorted slightly at the word, "Didn't say anything."

"Turn on your night vision goggles!" Krieger suddenly said.

Ray couldn’t help but chuckle as they slowly started to make their way through the brush.

“Jesus Christ, Archer,” Lana softly swore as the cameras changed to infrared, one by one. Black and white images began to fill the screens in the van.

“I wish I knew what was going on,” Abel muttered as he peered around Krieger’s head. 

The hologram looked at him for a second and then smiled, the soundsystem within the vehicle suddenly came to life with chatter from the agents instantly, though it was low enough to avoid being picked up by a microphone. “I’m not programmed to know all the things about computers but I am connected to speakers. That how you can hear me.”

The doctor arched an eyebrow as he turned to Mitsuko again. “Thank you. Now do you mind if I ask you something else?”

“Sure!” she giggled. 

“Did you choose that outfit or did Krieger program that?”

She shifted slightly and looked down at the barely there white dress, with plunging neckline and too short skirt. “What wrong with it?”

—

“Ow. Goddamned son of a bitch,” Archer hissed, rubbing his shin with a gloved hand. 

Elsewhere Ray was laughing, audible through all of their communication devices. 

“Shut up Ray, I swear to God…” Sterling cursed, stretching out his leg and began to slowly walk again. 

“Focus, please!” growled Lana as she carefully picked her way through the corner of a corn field, finding easy cover in the tall stalks. “I want this mission to go smoothly for _once_.”

“Talk to Archer about that. I’m already at the house. Seems to have two exits. A front door and a side door. Judging by the amount of overgrowth by the front door, it looks like they only use the side one. There’s a pick up in the driveway. I’m gonna go check that out,” Ray told her. 

“I got eyes on the back door,” she told him, peering through the edge of the corn wearing the night goggles each had been given and gazing at the scene in black and green light. A screen door remained in place as someone shifted on the other side. “Hold on. I’ve got movement.” 

—

“That’s certainly less fetishy,” nodded Abel as Mitsuko twirled in front of him, now wearing a team bowling shirt and a pair of shorts. “But I have to ask, why do you have that outfit in your inventory?”

“I am on company bowling team,” she replied. 

The doctor stared at her for a second and frowned. “But you’re a hologram. You can’t roll a bowling ball.”

She shrugged with a hum. “I am alternate. Never bowl but support team!”

“Huh. Some sort of portable projector?”

She nodded in typical hyper enthusiastic anime style. “Disguised as bowling ball bag.”

“I must admit, that’s rather creative,” admitted Abel.

“I hope to have body some day, so I can _really_ bowl,” Mitsuko clasped her hands together.

That caused Abel to pause. “Is, ah, Krieger working on something like that?”

“Oh yes! He make robot parts and clones all the time! He try and perfect cyborg body for me. Made out of flesh but computer brain for me to download in.”

“Clones?” Abel blinked, slowly taking in the tsunami of information. “Cyborgs?”

“Oh yes!” she eagerly repeated. “He make cyborg bodies before. Mister Archer have fiancé who —”

The conversation was suddenly put on hold as the speakers hidden in the walls and doors of the van erupted in gunfire. 


	8. Ready, Aim, Run Away!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shots are fired.

Finally getting over the bruise that would surely form on his leg, Sterling came at the house from the north side, which had no visible entry points at all. His plan was to find a window and climb in, guessing that none of the windows would be locked. 

“I’ve got movement,” Lana uttered, noting a figure moving before a window and watched it as it stayed in motion as the exterior door slowly swung open.

Ray has already gotten to the truck parked in the gravel drive. “Shit,” he swore, ducking down and rolled under the vehicle. He was grateful for the large tires added to the truck, rising it higher off the ground than it otherwise would be and gave him plenty of clearance. 

“What?!” Ray heard a gruff voice call out from behind, though he couldn’t see. He was guessing it was from whoever was leaving the house. “Yeah. Yeah. Your  _ fucking _ Doritos.” He caught the unmistakable telltale sound of a screen door being allowed to loosely fall back against the frame and bounced a few times before settling in place. The agent didn’t move as boots crunched the soil and stone, the sound becoming louder as the origin moved toward the tuck. 

Archer took advantage of attention being focused on the other side of the house to stand on his tip toes and peer into a room through an open window. Inside he caught sight of paneling distinctly from the 1980s, a couch that may have been plucked from a curb and a  _ really _ nice television. When he didn’t spot anyone he reached out with a gloved hand and tapped a screen that served as the only barrier standing between him and entry into the location. Since it didn’t move he slid his night vision goggles to the top of his head and reached for a knife to slice the plastic mesh.

Suddenly there was a snapping and barking pit bull mix at his hand and Archer jumped back, shouting. They weren’t aware there was a dog. Snarling teeth and claw nearly pushed through what he had intended to do but the commotion alerted someone inside and the agent didn’t have much time to dive out of the way before a shotgun went off.

The man at the truck had just managed to pull the door open when the weapon within the house fired, and he stopped and turned to bolt back to the residence. 

Ray reached out and snatched his ankle, pulling back. “Oh no you don’t!” The man toppled forward and slammed face first into the ground.

Lana sprinted toward the house and the vehicle, pulling both her firearms and got to Ray just as he was rolling out from under the truck and away from the would-be terrorist who had already gotten up and wiped blood from his chin with the back of a hand. She managed to note the man had a thick beard and was wearing a t-shirt printed with a camo design and a silkscreened American flag on it before she pistol whipped him across the side of his head and he went down, not moving.

“Where’s Archer?” she asked both Ray and the listening Krieger. 

“He’s on the other side of the house,” Krieger replied through their communications. “Tried to get in and met a dog.”

“There’s a dog?” Lana asked. 

Ray muttered, popping up from the ground as he smoothed over his blond hair. “Usually these people just keep their dogs tied outside all the time. No evidence of a dog so we didn’t plan for one.”

As they focused in a quiet second, the pair could hear a barking dog and another shotgun blast. 

“Fuck!” Lana cursed. “Come on!”

—

Mitsuko and Abel were staring at the monitors where Krieger was perched, wordless staring as all three cameras bounced around with hurried movements, with Lana issuing the order to wound and do not kill unless necessary. 

Sterling’s camera was a jumble of frantic shaking as the man scurried around and moved up against the wall of the house and out of the line of sight. He pulled out his own pistol and fired several times, swearing.

Mitsuko raised her hands to her lips in shock as Abel jumped into action, hopping into the driver’s seat and turned the key.

“Hey!” Krieger turned in his chair. “What are you doing?”

“Going to them.” Abel put the van in gear and pulled away.


End file.
